y dying, some dead. The gloomy atmosphere of the low-
beamed deck is pervaded by a thick haze of smoke, powdered wood,
and other dust, and is heavy with the fumes of gunpowder and
candle-grease, the odour of drugs and cordials, and the smell
from abdominal wounds.

NELSON, his face now pinched and wan with suffering, is lying
undressed in a midshipman's berth, dimly lit by a lantern. DR.
BEATTY, DR. MAGRATH, the Rev. DR. SCOTT the Chaplain, BURKE the
Purser, the Steward, and a few others stand around.]

MAGRATH [in a low voice]

Poor Ram, and poor Tom Whipple, have just gone..

BEATTY

There was no hope for them.

NELSON [brokenly]

Who have just died?

BEATTY

Two who were badly hit by now, my lord;
Lieutenant Ram and Mr. Whipple.

NELSON

Ah!
So many lives--in such a glorious cause....
I join them soon, soon, soon!--O where is Hardy?
Will nobody bring Hardy to me--none?
He must be killed, too. Surely Hardy's dead?

A MIDSHIPMAN

He's coming soon, my lord. The constant call
On his full heed of this most mortal fight
Keeps him from hastening hither as he would.

NELSON

I'll wait, I'll wait. I should have thought of it.

[Presently HARDY comes down. NELSON and he grasp hands.]

Hardy, how goes the day with us and England?

HARDY

Well; very well, thank God for't, my dear lord.
Villeneuve their Admiral has this moment struck,
And put himself aboard the "Conqueror."
Some fourteen of their first-rates, or about,
Thus far we've got. The said "Bucentaure" chief:
The "Santa Ana," the "Redoubtable,"
The "Fougueux," the "Santisima Trinidad,"
"San Augustino, "San Francisco," "Aigle";
And our old "Swiftsure," too, we've grappled back,
To every seaman's joy. But now their van
Has tacked to bear round on the "Victory"
And crush her by sheer weight of wood and brass:
Three of our best I am therefore calling up,
And make no doubt of worsting theirs, and France.

NELSON

That's well. I swore for twenty.--But it's well.

HARDY

We'll have 'em yet! But without you, my lord,
We have to make slow plodding do the deeds
That sprung by inspiration ere you fell;
And on this ship the more particularly.

NELSON

No, Hardy.--Ever 'twas your settled fault
So modestly to whittle down your worth.
But I saw stuff in you which admir